A View of the World from a Swing
by Oxymoronic Alliteration
Summary: A hard case takes a toll on Abby.


These kinds of days were the worst. In this line of work one was witness to some terrible things. It was bad enough seeing adults get killed; when the victim was a child who hadn't even lived long enough to truly appreciate the world? Well, that was just too much to bear.

While driving home, she passed a park with a small, deserted playground. Amid the clutter of jungle gyms, monkey bars, and slides was a swing set, sitting dead center. The seats swayed back and forth in the soft wind, looking as though they were occupied by spirits.

Without a second thought, she pulled into a parking space and got out. She needed to feel like a child again, to forget that such horrors even existed in the world.

Abby had struggled through her work that day, her entire body and mind numbed by the fact that six-year-old Josie Deane would never be able to grow old, finish school, maybe even marry and start a family. She had avoided the autopsy all day. Having to see the pictures of the body was bad enough.

But she had pushed through her emotions, because Chief Petty Officer Deane and his wife deserved justice for what had happened to their little girl. With only Caf-Pows for nourishment, Abby had spent the entire day in her lab and had managed to work her personal magic and find answers for the team. Once they had gone off to nab the killer, she sunk to the floor, clutching Bert in her arms, and she had cried. Her mascara had stained Bert's fur and she doubted it would ever come out.

With the wind blowing around her, Abby buttoned her coat and trekked toward the swing set. She took the seat in the middle. When she had been young her legs had dangled above the ground as she swung back and forth. Now her legs reached the ground firmly, her knees coming up above her stomach. Still, she gave herself a small push off and lifted her feet, letting her body swing back and forth.

Did any little kid dislike swinging? Abby didn't think so. No one could dislike swinging. There was something so free about it. The wind blew through your hair. You flew higher and higher into the air. At some point it looked like you could actually reach the sky. As she swung, Abby looked up to the heavens. She wondered if little Josie was looking down from there at that moment.

"Need a push?"

Abby didn't need to turn around to know who was there. "What are you doing here, Gibbs?"

"I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"How did you know I'd be here?"

"Because I know you." Gibbs took a seat in the swing beside her as Abby let herself come to a stop. He looked almost comical sitting in the seat.

"So how are you?" he asked.

"Sad. Mad. Horrified."

"Yeah…I know."

"How could anyone do that? I mean, how could someone kill a poor child?"

"There are a lot of sick people out there, Abbs. I wish I could tell you why they do it. I wish I could tell myself why they do it."

She gripped the chains on either side, leaning her head against the one to her right. "It's not fair! Kids aren't supposed to die. They shouldn't even have to worry about dying. They should just be able to enjoy things like coloring and bubbles and…and swings!"

"Abby, if I had it my way kids wouldn't die," Gibbs said softly. Abby suddenly realized that this was as much a sore spot for him as it was for her. Gibbs knew first-hand how painful it was to lose a child.

She looked over at him. His eyes were to the sky. "I'm sorry, Gibbs."

"You didn't do anything wrong."

"I know you miss her."

There was a long, numb silence between them as they rocked back and forth. Abby kept her eyes on Gibbs. She could see he was choosing his words carefully.

He finally broke the silence, saying, "She loved to swing."

"Kelly?" Abby asked.

Gibbs nodded. "I put up a set in the backyard. She had monkey bars, a small fort, and a slide, but the swings were her favorite. I even painted the seats with daisies, her favorite flower."

A lump welled up in the back of Abby's throat. Another young girl who never really had a chance. She hunched over in her seat, feeling as though her insides were deflating like a balloon.

A hand came to rest on the back of her head, imploring her to look up. When she did, Abby found herself looking into Gibbs' eyes which held a mixture of concern, sadness, and care.

"I don't try to makes sense of it anymore; I just try to stop it. That's the best we can do."

"It doesn't make it any easier."

"No," he said grimly, "it doesn't."

Abby brought her eyes back up to the sky. She felt Gibbs' hands wrap around hers. "Now how about that push?" he asked.

Positioned behind her, Gibbs placed his hands on either side of her back and gave her a small push. Abby swung forward, clinging to the chain suspensions. Every time she swung back, Gibbs hands were there to push her forward again. As she soared higher and higher toward the night sky, Abby said a silent prayer for the children lost too soon. For the ones who never had a chance. For the ones who had only just begun to enjoy the thrill of simply swinging.


End file.
